A Blessing and a Curse
by Unknown Souldreamer
Summary: It was a dream, that slowly descended into abyss of a terrible nightmare.  Maybe that's what being the Dragonborn is all about.  Suffering and no love, for the sake of the world.  A Dragonborn/Faendal fanfiction. Now updated with a real conclusion! Read and review
1. Chapter 1

Warnings: Not a lime or lemon, though it includes much more than kissing.

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><p>A Blessing and a Curse<p>

It was nearly midnight when he returned to Breezehome; the memory of the episode remained ever so clear to her. She was lying in bed, armor hung up, sword on its rack, and trying to sleep, when her follower, the Bosmer Faendal returned from his outing at the Bannered Mare. The door slammed open, and he staggered inside, swaying from left to right. Immediately she jumped from her bed, and ran downstairs to meet him. The Dovahkiin, called Ileana, assumed he wasn't the drinking type; he never once touched an ounce of mead on their way to the city of Whiterun. But there he was, far from sober.

"Hey, Faendal, what happened at the inn? Decided to cut the clean streak and do something… evil, for once?" She smirked. It was so unlike him, to reek of alcohol and look utterly disheveled, as though he had gotten into a fight. Farkas must've spiked his drink, she thought, I'll have to speak to him tomorrow about this.

The elf didn't respond; he only stared intently at her. And then his eyes began to drift down lower, to the thin fabric of her night garments. Ileana caught his gaze, and blushed. What was going on here?

He got up, and moved his hand to the side of her cheek, cradling it gently. If the Dovahkiin had been blushing before, she was red hot now. She was fixed on the spot, trying to see what he would do next. Stupid, stupid girlish feelings, she chided herself. For months she had been infatuated with her follower, for his loyalty, his brave heart, his kindness. Once, during a chilly night in the woods, he kept her warm by wrapping his arms around her. She had a chance to breath in his scent, that musky, nature-like aroma which she liked so much. But he loved Camilla Valerius, and she knew she stood no chance against the prettier, more womanly Imperial. Until now.

Ileana was so preoccupied by her thoughts that she didn't notice how Faendal had adjusted his hand behind her head. He tilted her head up slightly, and leaned in, pressing his lips against hers. It was only brief, and a second later he pulled away, smiling. "I've waited so long for this," his drunken voice had a lilt to it, different from his normal tone. Focusing back on reality, she found it rather attractive. She liked everything about him. Dragons and wars and quests didn't matter now, and for the first time, she wanted to act more like her gender, and have the opposite sex in the palm of her hand.

She returned his kiss, this time with ferocity. He gladly accepted, their teeth bumping. He tasted still of Black Briar Mead, but with its own unique flavor. Sweet, almost. His hands found their way around her back, holding her tight. She took the opportunity to wrap her legs around his slim waist. His tongue ghosted over her lips, eliciting a shiver from her. Her mouth opened, and his tongue found hers.

Desire was overtaking both of them, and she pulled away long enough to begin biting down on his neck, leaving bruising marks. "Not fair," the elf moaned/whined. "I'm supposed to be doing that to you." Instead of necking her, he began to undo the strings of her night gown, attempting to tug it down.

Alarmed by how fast everything was going, she whispered in his ear, "Shouldn't we be taking this upstairs?" He nodded, and he carried her up. He dropped her on her bed with a thud, and climbed on top of her. With a final pull, he removed her dress, revealing her naked body to him, pale skin, curves, and all. He whistled. "You're just as beautiful as I thought you'd be."

"Not as handsome as you are," Ileana countered, grabbing a knife from the nearby nightstand, and slashing straight through his shirt. She stood up, ran her hands over his chest, and examined his defined muscles, which were quite unexpected for an elf.

He closed the distance between them, again, burying his head in the crook of her neck. "Now it's my turn." Faendal sucked on the soft flesh of her skin, gently at first, then once he found her sensitive spot, biting down hard. She shrieked, from both the pain and pleasure. He stopped. "My love, am I hurting you?"

"No, no," She lied. The sensations she was feeling were too much to bear. She wanted more of it, his kisses, and his sweet words. This passion, was it really love? Or just a dream from Vaermina? She had to find out.

Ileana lay down, and he followed, lying down next to her. She looked at her follower-turned lover. "Faendal…" She ventured.

"Yes, my darling?" He had a goofy, lopsided smile.

"Do you love me?"

"Why would you ask such a question?" He returned her question with a question of his own.

Ileana suddenly turned shy. "Because you never paid attention to me before. And I liked you for so long."

"What do you mean, never paid attention to you before? You're the most beautiful lady in all of Riverwood, perhaps all of Skyrim!"

"Riverwood… Faendal, who do you think I am?" Fear enveloped the Dovahkiin. Now this all had to have been a dream…

"Are you drunk enough to not know your own name, Camilla Valerius?"

And like that, her heart was shattered like glass.

…

Faendal awoke the next morning with a raging headache. "By the Nine, what happened last night?" He groaned. The sun was shining through an adjacent window directly in his eyes, and everything around him was spinning. The room he was in seemed highly familiar. He got up, and realized it belong to Ileana, the Dragonborn he was traveling with. "How'd I end up here…?" The elf glanced down, and saw that his shirt was slashed open, leading to much more confusion.

It took quite a bit of effort to get down the stairs without falling, but he managed to do it. An odor was wafting from the cooking pot, and he followed the scent. There was Ileana, stirring some broth. Her hair was a mess, and her eyes were red and watery, as though she had been crying. She looked up, but didn't say a word.

"Ileana, how did I end up in your bed?" He asked, taking a seat right beside her.

"You came home from the Bannered Mare late last night. Surprisingly enough, you were drunk. So I helped you to my bed." She rehearsed the entire lie in her head; she couldn't bring herself to tell him what had really happened.

Despite the pain in his head, he smiled. She was always so kind to him, protecting and watching out for him. Déjà vu, he got up, and reached out to place his hand on the side of her cheek. But this time, Ileana saw it coming, and backed away, hurt in her eyes. Dammit, I'm going to start crying again, she thought.

He blinked. "Ileana, what's wrong?"

Her back was turned to him, she was walking away to get her things. "What's wrong?" He said, this time a little louder.

"It's nothing!" She snapped. Grabbing her satchel, she faced him. Now he was the one to look hurt. "I'm going to Farengar to buy some spell tomes. When I return, we're going to Ivarstead." With a huff, the door slammed behind her, leaving Faendal alone in Breezehome. He sighed. There had to be some way to cheer her up, for everything she had done for him. But in reality, there was nothing.

Outside, the Dovahkiin's tears flowed freely. It was raining, so no one could see her heartbreak. "I let silly feelings get to me. Magic can hide the marks on my neck, but not the scars in my heart. Maybe that's what being the Dragonborn is all about. Letting feelings go for the sake of Skyrim, for all of Tamriel. Even feelings of love…"

She started on the road to Dragonsreach. "Aye, being the Dovahkiin is both a blessing and a curse."

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><p>My first attempt at a Skyrim story! I haven't written for ages, but I hope it suits your fancy. There just aren't enough Faendal (or any) stories, so I wrote some myself.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Because my reviewers wanted to see a definitive conclusion to this story, I'll make it a twoshot. Hope you enjoy!

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><p>"<em>Everyone wants happiness, no one wants pain, but you can't make a rainbow without a little rain."<em>

It had been a month since the incident. The pair had traveled to Ivarstead and ran up the seven thousand steps to High Hrothgar, where Ileana learned the Whirlwind Spirit shout from Arngeir. And after traveling back down, they walked onto Riften.

Faendal noticed the Dragonborn's change in attitude ever since they departed Whiterun. Conversations were kept to a minimal; she tried her hardest to avoid him. She also stopped asking him for assistance with archery. Ileana spent most of her time alone now, just staring up into the sky with a sad look on her face. And every time he tried to ask her what was wrong, she just mumbled that everything was fine.

He missed the old Ileana, the one who always smiled like there was no tomorrow. Who virtually saved him from a life of boredom in Riverwood. After all these months, he had come to love her like a sister. And for some reason, he felt like it was his fault she changed.

Eventually, they showed up at the front of Riften, and Faendal took note of the dirty water and stench emanating from the city. This place was the clear opposite of Whiterun. The guards were looking at them hungrily, too, as if they had something planned.

"Stop!" One of them said. "To enter the city you must pay a visitor's tax."

"What? That's insane. Ileana, they're obviously just out to make some coin," Faendal whispered to her.

She ignored him, giving the guard a hard stare. Finally she spoke, "Quit joking around. If you don't let me in, I'll have to have a word with the Jarl."

"Fine, lady. We'll let you and your friend in for free, as long as you don't say anything to Jarl Laila." The two began to open the gates.

"She never was so bold before. She really has changed… but not entirely for the better," Faendal thought as they made their way in to the capital of The Rift.

At The Bee and Bard was where the real surprise was. She walked up to Keevara, the innkeeper, and asked for two tankards of mead. She left Faendal and the tankards on a table, and made her way to a brightly dressed Imperial man. A handsome man, at that.

"Hello, lovely," he called out to her.

"Hello," she smiled.

"I've never seen you around these parts; you new to Riften?" He was sitting on a bench, and made a motion for her to come join him.

"Yes," Ileana sat down and leaned closer to him, and he did the same. "I'm Ileana."

"I'm Marcurio. The best mage in all of Skyrim."

"Is that so?" Ileana laughed.

Faendal was shocked. He was listening in on the entire thing, watching them flirt and enjoy themselves. Now it was clear he had done something to hurt her, as she left him hanging with two tankards. And she was looking so happy with a complete stranger! He had half a mind to go up to her and demand what the hell he had done for him to get this treatment. But he saw her smile and laugh; it had been a long time since he had seen her like that. It almost made him happy, in a strange way. And he could not bear to see her see her sad again. But he also could not stand the way they were acting – she was hanging onto his every word, and he had his hand on her thigh.

So he got up from the table, handed over the two full tankards to Keevara, and made his way upstairs, leaving Ileana and Marcurio to flirt the night away.

…

Two weeks passed, and Ileana was still flirting with Marcurio. Instead of Ileana and Faendal, it had become Ileana and Marcurio, and the Bosmer elf was sick of it. He watched them all the time from a distance, not as a stalker, but as a bystander. They had not kissed, yet, as far as he knew, but all the hugging and dancing seemed to have been done on purpose just to irk him.

And he was annoyed. Every time he saw them together, weird feelings and thoughts came and would not leave until he was a safe distance away. Sometimes he even imagined he was Marcurio and getting all those hugs and smiles from Ileana, but that was crazy talk, right? Because she was like a sister to him…

The Bosmer was sitting at the bar of The Bee and Bard, staring emptily at the wooden table. Faendal was considering drinking to soothe the ache, but he hated alcohol, and the last time he had it, he could not remember what he did the next day. And that was the day Ileana changed for good. Hm… If I drink, maybe she'll change again, he thought. He didn't care anymore. He wanted Ileana back. "Keevara! A glass of your best wine!" He called.

And when the Argonian gave him a bottle of Black-Briar wine, he gulped down his misery and hoped for the best.

…

It was evening when Faendal stumbled out of the inn. He was getting better at holding his liquor, yes, but he still had a lot to learn in the art of drinking. The elf wandered around for some time, until he heard a familiar laugh ring in his ears.

"Oh, Marcurio… Not here," the voice said.

Ileana! Faendal crept slowly to where they were, behind the inn. He hid behind a barrel and watched a scene unfold.

Marcurio had his arms on Ileana's waist, trapping her effectively against a wall. She was leaning in close to him, and it looked as though they were about to kiss.

"If not now, when? That stupid elf is always around us," Marcurio argued.

"Faendal is not stupid," Ileana snapped.

"Of course, my dear. He isn't," the mage corrected himself, "I just want to kiss you before you leave Riften for good. Unless, you've considered my offer…"

"I have thought about it, I have…"

Faendal did not bother to hear anymore of the conversation. It was obvious that Ileana wanted a better partner, her lover, no doubt. He did not want her to tell him; he would tell her he was leaving first.

…

Faendal was lying down in bed and holding his aching head when Ileana came into their room. "Oh, Faendal, drinking again?" She asked.

"It was only a bottle. I'm fine," Faendal got up and faced her. "Ileana, we have to talk."

"Can it wait until morning? I'm tired…" She was trying to get out of the conversation, but the elf would not let her.

"No. It's important." This rare time with her would only end in pain, he knew. But it had to be done.

"Fine, Faendal, what is it?"

"I've been thinking. We've gone through thick and thin together, have we not?"

"Yes, why?" She bore a confused expression on her face.

"Been through dragons and snow and bandits and trolls and everything… Ileana, thank you for that."

"Thank you for what?"

"Giving me such an adventure. Had I never left Riverwood, I would have spent all my time hunting…"

"And pining after Camilla Valerius," Ileana said with a small voice.

Surprisingly, he had not thought about Camilla in so long. Everything now was about protecting Ileana and making her happy. Why, why was he plagued with thoughts of only her?

"My adventure with you is done. I know you realize that," he said slowly. "Marcurio will be your partner now, right?" He did not let her answer. "I'm leaving in the morning, but I want you to know that whatever happened that night… That night I remember nothing about… I want you to know I'm sorry."

Without thinking, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. He pulled away, and noticed his lips are wet. Ileana started crying without him noticing.

"D-don't g-go," she choked out. "P-please!" Her sobs turn more fervent, so he scoops her up and places her on his lap, allowing her legs to wrap around his waist, her head buried in his embrace. He tightens his arms around her, rubbing circles along her back in an effort to calm her down.

She calmed down within a matter of minutes, and he laid her down on the bed. He was about to leave the room and let her rest, when she says, quietly, "Faendal, please don't go. I'll miss you. I'm sorry."

He was around long enough to hear her whisper, "I love you, Faendal. Even though you don't love me."

…

Ileana awoke the next day with messy hair, dried tears, and an empty heart. He probably left already, she thought. But she would have to go on without him, despite her pain. She was the only living Dragonborn, of course.

Unfortunately she would have to go alone. Her charade with Marcurio had cost her. She had not planned on seeing an old friend from Cyrodiil, much less crafting a plan to make Faendal jealous. But she never wanted to lose her partner; her plan backfired, terribly.

She packed her belongings and headed downstairs, tossing septims onto the counter. "Thanks for all the mead and food, Keevara and Talen-Jei!"

Marcurio was standing at the door, with a sad smile. "He left awhile ago, my dear."

"Would I be able to catch him?"

"I kid, sweetheart. He's outside."

Her heart started racing. "Dammit, Marcurio. Quit messing with me."

He kissed her cheek, and she felt nothing as compared to when Faendal kissed her. "Visit me sometimes. It does get lonely."

"But the next time we meet, we'll meet as friends, not as…"

"Accomplices? You spent enough time with me, Ileana. Now it's time for you to focus on elf boy."

With those words in mind, she ran out, and Marcurio was right; her elf was waiting for her. Faendal was leaning against a wooden post, looking a tad bored. "Are we still partners?" He asked.

"Always."

"What about Marcurio?" A coy smile was playing on his lips and she blushed. Perhaps the mage told him more than he should have known.

She waved her hand in the air and winked. "A mage is no match for an archer."

"What about last night?"

Ileana turned beet red at the question. "Y-you mean, what I said?" She stuttered out. He nodded. "I did mean it, but if you want, we can just be f-friends…"

"Or we can take it slow. Like this," He grabbed her wrist and pulled her close to him. Faendal tilted her head up and kissed her firmly. She responded by wrapping her hands around his neck and kissing him back. Ileana did not care if the entire city of Riften was watching. This kiss was different from before; it had meaning. It was love, not lust.

They broke apart for necessary air, and Ileana leaned her head against his chest. He held onto her protectively.

"Sven can have Camilla for all I care. You're what matters," the Bosmer murmured, brushing her brown hair.

"Even after I ignored you for a month, tried to make you jealous, and kind of made your life miserable for about two weeks?"

"Well… You're the Dragonborn. The job isn't really a 'walk in the park'," he teased. "And in the end, we ended up together. You got me to realize how much I love you." He took her hand in his, and they began to walk towards the gates.

"You can thank Farkas for that. He was the one who spiked your drink."

"Which reminds me, what exactly happened that night?"


End file.
